After the Lights went Out
by ROSSELLA1
Summary: What wasn't seen in Nameless, Faceless.Revised.


After the Lights Went Out

By ROSSELLA1

Note: I do not own Criminal Minds. Some of the dialogue is taken from the show and that will be in italics. Slightly AU, since based off the flashbacks, Foyet would have stabbed Hotch before he raped him (if he did; the episode certainly hints at it). Also, I know that this concept has been done several times before but this is my take on what happened. If it bears a resemblance to anyone else's fic, it is unintentional. This is pretty much an extension of the flashbacks in my other fic "Moving On".

Sighing, Aaron enters the apartment, turning on the light and closing the door behind him. Throws his keys on the table, his briefcase to the side, places his gun on the table, and heads over to the cabinet where he keeps the wine. He normally doesn't drink; working for the BAU means that at any moment, no matter what time or day it was, his phone could ring and JJ would need them to come in for an urgent case. Profiling being his life, he doesn't like to risk the possibility of being able to give less than his whole attention to his team or a case. This last one, though…well, it had been brutal. Mind still reeling from the scene of all those bloody shoes and the herd of unusually healthy pigs, he allows himself a small glass.

He lets himself relax as he took a sip. 'That's-'He's not able to finish the thought. There's a small bit of movement reflecting in his glass. He straightens as he hears the all too familiar sound of a gun cocking and slowly turns around. Before him is the Boston Reaper, a gun in his hand pointed directly at Hotch's head.

"_You should have made a deal_," Foyet says, and turning his hand ever so slightly, fires a single bullet into the wall behind Hotch's shoulder.

Aaron forces himself not to flinch. 'Don't show him fear.'

"_Is this part of my profile?" _Foyet mocks_, _as if Hotch had spoken aloud. "_That you can't show me fear?"_

Steeling himself, Aaron replies with, "If you don't see fear maybe it's because I'm not afraid of you." In truth, he is afraid. Not of dying; he hasn't been afraid to die since childhood, when it was all too much of a reality that he might not survive his father's nightly beatings. It was the thought of torture that makes him nervous. Though Foyet has never spent much time with his male victims, the fact that he hs broken into Hotch's apartment instead of waiting for him to get in his car shows that this isn't the Reaper's usual crime and Hotch won't be the usual male victim.

"_You said that like you actually meant it."_ The Reaper sneers. A pause and then, "_How's my friend Agent Morgan_?"

Hotch grinds his teeth at the ploy but refuses to give Foyet the satisfaction that it had gotten under his skin. "_Are you here to kill me? Or are you here to play games_?" He asks in a seemingly at ease tone.

"_You tell me. Enlighten me about my behavior." _Foyet mocks and begins to take off his mask. Hotch takes advantage of the moment and moves forward to attack. But of course Foyet's prepared. The man lands a blow to the side of Aaron's head, knocking him to the ground. Hotch tries to get up but Foyet kicks him in the side. He tries to rise one more time, but this time he gets punched in the face. For a moment Aaron can't see. But then his vision clears. Foyet's crouched over him, a knife to his throat and a gun pressed into the small of his back. Hotch can feel the man's breath, their faces less than an inch apart. "Get up." Hotch hesitates, the pain making it difficult to even think about moving. "I said get up!" Foyet yells, pulling the gun back and ramming it into Hotch's spine, eliciting a moan. Aaron forces himself to his feet. Resisting will be useless. "Come on."

George starts walking in the direction of the bedroom, holding Hotch against his chest. Forcing the agent to feel his obvious arousal. Aaron pauses but Foyet only pushes him forward again until they come to the bed.

"Lay down." Foyet orders.

Closing his eyes briefly, Hotch obeys. He knows what was coming. The Reaper has never raped any of his previous victims, but they know from investigating Foyet's history that the Reaper's not impotent. However, since the FBI so often states that stabbing's a substitution, it's only natural that George wants to prove that he's an exception. Aaron's not prepared to be used as the example.

Taking out a pair of handcuffs from his jeans, Foyet cuffs one of Aaron's hands to the post of the bed. 'One so he can move me around if he wants to,' Hotch realizes, his stomach churning. His clothes are slowly stripped off, Foyet making sure to stroke each part as it's revealed.

"Be right back." The man winks, running a lingering hand from Hotch's cheek, over his chest, and down to his thigh. He sets the knife and gun on the night table. If they're just a little bit closer Hotch could reach them. But that, of course, is intentional. He hears Foyet removing his own clothes and then he returns, turning Hotch onto his side. The man slides in beside his victim and pulls him into a mockery of a lovers embrace, his hands sliding gently over every part of Hotch's body, making their way down until they're between his legs.

"Oh God… " Hotch can't hold back a gasp, as he feels a cold finger brush the tip of his penis.

"You can call me George." Aaron can feel his attacker smirk into the back of his neck.

"_I will kill you." _Aaron manages to get out. 'Breathe.' He thinks. 'Don't let him win entirely. Make him believe you don't care.' But how can he'd rather be back at the pig farm than in his own bed?

"You're not in much of a position to make threats, are you Agent Hotchner?" Foyet says in his ear, and then softly, kissing the back of Hotch's neck as he feels Hotch hardening, "Do you like this Aaron? Does it get you off knowing I'm in control and you can't do anything about it?"

"Bastard." Hotch hisses, trying to keep his breathing steady. 'Just breathe.' He tells himself. 'Don't let him know you're afraid of him. Don't let him wi-' "Ah!" He cries out as one leg's jerked back over Foyet's hip.

Foyet chuckles softly, "_Now I hear, that profilers think that stabbing is a substitution for the act of sex. That if somebody's impotent, they'll use a knife instead. Is that what you think, Agent Hotchner? Maybe this will change the way you profile_." And he starts thrusting into Aaron's tight rectum. "What… do you think… now?" All the while he's stroking his victim synchronizing his thrusts with the strokes.

Hotch has to bite down on his lip to keep from sobbing; the excruciating pain mixes with his body's natural response to form an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation. 'This is how it feels for all ra-' He can't bring himself to think the word. 'It's nothing you haven't heard about before.' But hearing about it and trying to emphasize are different from experiencing…it… himself. Aaron's painfully aware of every touch, every moan, every laugh the Reaper make. And even though he knows that it's physically impossible for the man to last more than a few minutes, it seems like the attack has been going on for hours.

Finally, with a sound that's half a moan and half a gasp, George comes, forcing Hotch to come too. The man sighs and kisses Hotch on the neck again. "Was that good for you? It was for me." He pulls out and roles off the bed.

'Is he finished?' Aaron thinks, unable to muster up the strength to turn his head and look. He doesn't have to wait long, though.

Returning a moment later, Foyet rolls him on to his back and straddles him, holding the knife again. He brings Hotch's one hand up to touch his chest, to feel the thin bumps of the old stab wounds. "You like my scars? _When I'm finished, you're going to look just the same." _And then the Reaper plunges the blade into Aaron's upper chest. "Don't worry." The man laughs as Hotch opens his mouth in a silent scream, unable to make a noise. "I'm not going to kill you. You're just too much fun." And staring his captive in the eyes, he repeats the process in different areas of the body. Hotch's vision is beginning to fade to black; the only thing holding him there in reality is the pain. But eventually his eyes drift close. The last thing he sees is the Reaper smiling down at him.


End file.
